


Fire In Your Eyes

by Soulstarsinger (soulstar)



Series: Staring at the Sun [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Arguing, F/M, Misunderstandings, POV First Person, POV Spike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-10-20
Updated: 1999-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1944273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulstar/pseuds/Soulstarsinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike tempts fate, in the form of Buffy.<br/>Set in speculative / AU Season 4 (written before it aired).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire In Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Everything to do with _Buffy_ belongs to Joss and co, no matter how much I'd like to pretend otherwise. Title (and series title) from "Staring at the Sun" by The Offspring.

I've never been one for the quiet life. I'm always looking for something new and different, something fun. Always impatient to take up a new challenge. And sometimes my impatience makes me careless, or makes me act without thinking.

Yeah, it gets me in serious trouble sometimes. But it's those little brushes with death - again - that make me feel alive. Ironic really, since I'm not.

Lately though, I've been feeling a little restless again. I know that fighting on the side of good _is_ still fighting, but....

There are compensations of course. Oh, are there ever. Don't think I could've stood it otherwise. And since those compensations include plenty of potential danger....

But I'm still a demon, and so me being me, I couldn't resist tempting fate - and that danger - when the opportunity presented itself.

*****

I let the man fall to the ground. God, it's been so long since I've tasted fresh, warm, _live_ blood. I really should do this more often, sod the consequences. Then I hear a gasp, a whispered "Spike?". Shit. And while part of me cringes, another part welcomes the danger, the confrontation, gleeful that I've been caught out.

I turn to face her, see her shock turn to anger.

"Slayer." I greet her.

"How could you?" she hisses.

"How could I not?" Seems like a good thing to say at the time.

"You promised. You promised _me_." I shrug a little. What's to say?

She lashes out at me then. I block her punches and kicks, don't really fight back. Perhaps she'll notice that when she's worked out her anger. She whips out a stake. Perhaps not, then. I disengage, step back. She tenses, waiting for an attack. Instead, I take another step away so my back is against the wall. I lean my head back, half closing my eyes. She follows, anger still burning bright.

Does she want me to apologise? I won't. And what for anyway? For what I actually did, or for breaking her promise? Or is she expecting some kind of explanation? Not likely. She's drawn her own conclusions, and who can blame her, on the evidence. She stares at me, faltering a little. Later, when we're alone, indoors, I'll tell her. If there _is_ a later for me that is. But not now. Not yet.

"Why did you stop?" her voice is harsh. I just watch her through slitted eyes. You want to know? He's not dead, baby. He attacked me, the twat. Pulled a knife. What d'you expect me to do, baby? Turn the other cheek? "Why won't you fight?" Tears are coming now. Still I don't move. Didn't take more than a quick drink, baby. Coward passed out from fright. Nothing worse up with him than a bump on the head and a mess in his pants.

She hits me again, and this time I'm too slow to block her. A couple of punches and a well placed kick, and I'm on the floor. She straddles me, stake poised.

" _Why_?" she grinds out. And a few feet away, I hear the 'body' begin to stir. The tip of the stake is resting on my chest now. I look right at her. Damned if I'm going out babbling excuses, even if they are the truth. The stake presses down harder.

"Opportunity, baby." I whisper. She chokes a sob, the pressure on my chest increases, then she flings the stake away and collapses on top of me. I wrap my arms around her, and sit up, holding her on my lap, stroking her hair. "It's OK baby, it's OK."

"It's _not_ OK." she sobs "I couldn't do it. I should've done it. You broke your promise. You killed someone..."

"No I didn't." She pulls away sharply.

"What?" I indicate towards the man, who has now rolled on his side and is groaning and holding his head. She's off my lap faster than I can blink, and the anger's back in full force. "Bastard!" she yells, and slaps my face as hard as she can before storming off. I'll go after her in a minute, and then we can fight properly before making up. Oh yeah, there are definite compensations to this lark. I'll give you that.

END

***

_If I seem bleak_  
Well you'd be correct  
And if I don't speak  
It's cos I can't disconnect 

_But I won't be burned by the reflection_  
Of the fire in your eyes  
As you're staring at the sun 


End file.
